Fourth of July
by Minttown1
Summary: Grissom and Sara spend the Fourth of July together.


TITLE: 4th of July

AUTHOR: Minttown1/Amber

RATING: PG

SPOILERS: Sounds of Silence

SUMMARY: Grissom and Sara spend the Fourth of July together.

ARCHIVAL: Sure.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own CSI, and I'm glad, because I don't like responsibility. The song Sara quotes in the car is "Help Me Through The Night" by Joe Walsh, which I think is one of my beloved Vietnam songs, but I'm not sure.

DEDICATION: Hmm. To my dad, for taking me to see fireworks even though he hates them. To my mom for making my dad take me. To my tenth grade chemistry teacher for letting us watch the video that inspired part of this. To Sam for upping the deadline on this thing so that I actually wrote it. To the banana that sustained me well through six a.m. writing. To Aimee Mann for writing the song "4th of July" which is entirely to blame for this even though I failed in my goal to actually make the story relate to the song. And lastly to Devanie, for telling me to "write that" and then telling me that it "doesn't suck monkeys, really." Okay, that second quote was me.

Enjoy.

~*~*~*~*~

"Hey, happy Fourth, Sara," Nick said as he passed her in the hall. They had just finished a relatively easy Wednesday night, and Sara was already dreading the next shift. The Fourth of July had been awful last year.

There was always the glimmering hope that she could get the night off at the last minute. She was always good about working holidays, never mind that that was only because she had nothing else to do.

She continued down the hall until she stood in the doorway to Grissom's office. He finally looked up from the book he had been reading. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"Yeah, hopefully." She took a hesitant step into his office, amazed by the apparent growth in the clutter. "I wanted to know if I could take tonight off."

"No," he said simply, turning his attention back to the book.

  
"Grissom, I never ask for time off. I usually don't even take the time I get."

"You have to work tonight. You should have requested the night off last month when we put the July schedule together."

"I didn't think about it then."

"There's nothing I can do now. I'm sorry," he said, not sounding at all apologetic. "The Fourth is a busy night, and the lab's going to be short staffed as it is."

"Short staffed? Who gets to take the night off?"

"I do," he said, simple calm in response to her rising anger.

"Oh." She truly did not want to work the Fourth of July. Last year it seemed like there had been so much work spread out between the four of them. The four? "You didn't work on the Fourth last year either, did you?"

"No."

"You have plans?" she asked, wondering for a moment why the idea seemed to bother her.

"Does it matter?" His voice made it clear that her presence was becoming less welcome.

She shook her head and repeated his favorite reply of the morning. "No."

He stared at the book as if considering something, then finally looked back up. "Do you?" he asked finally.

"Do I _matter_?"

He looked confused, then shook his head. "I meant, do you have plans?"

"I'm working, remember?"

"_Did_ you have plans?"

"No. I don't get into these little holidays. Days are days. Some days are just more miserable to work."

"I don't know about that. I'll make you a deal, though."

"A deal?"  
  
"You can skip work tonight if you come with me instead."

She watched his face, trying to decide whether he was serious. "That doesn't sound like a responsible supervisory decision."

  
"I know. Do you want to come?" He was watching her intently now.

"Come where?"

"No, that's not part of the deal," he explained with a smile.

He was actually being playful. She smiled back. "How do I know you won't just kidnap me and make me spend the rest of my life alone with you?"

"I can think of worse ways to spend the rest of my life."

She paused for a moment to consider the possible meaning of his words. Finally she said, "Like spending the rest of your life alone with Nick?"

"Exactly."

She laughed, and he surprised her by doing the same. "So, you'll come?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "I have no idea what you're planning, but it sounds nice."

"It is," he assured her. "Can I pick you up around nine?"

"Pick me up?" she asked skeptically.

"Yeah. I wouldn't want to lose you."

She felt her breath catch in spite of herself, and it took her a moment just to manage a single syllable. "Oh."

He gave her an odd look. "So it's okay to pick you up?"

"Of course," she replied as he turned back to his book. She stood in the middle of his office, confused by their conversation and unsure why. "So, I guess I'll, um, I'll see you at nine." When he looked up again, she was gone.

~*~*~*~*~

What had seemed like a good idea that morning to avoid work and maybe even to spend time with Grissom suddenly felt awkward as she slid into the passenger seat of his car that evening. His uncharacteristically cheerful mood had been replaced at some point in the day by his usual thoughtful silence, and she was at a loss.

He turned to her as he started the car. "You can take the night off even if you don't come with me. They already called someone in from dayshift. It's up to you."

"No, I still want to come," she said, trying to read the expression in his eyes.

"Okay." He pulled out of the parking lot of her building and onto the street.

"Do you even still want me to come?"

He sighed. "Yeah, I still do. It's not that, Sara. It's something else."

Sara knew that where Grissom was concerned, simply the admission that there was something upsetting him was a lot. "So, where are we going?" she asked to change the subject.

"The desert."

"The desert," she repeated. "That sounds ominous."

"The first year I lived here I did the Fourth in the city. It didn't feel special, because they have fireworks in the city every night. I've been coming out here since then."

"You've been driving miles into the desert every year to watch fireworks?"

"I've celebrated Independence Day every year since I was born." He paused while he checked an exit sign. "Or so I was always told. It's probably true. My mother always loved the Fourth."

Sara smiled. "A patriot?"

"Maybe, as much as anyone. She liked the fireworks." He stopped again.

"The fireworks?" she asked, trying to keep him talking. He had never discussed his mother with her before.

He nodded. "Most of fireworks are in the sight. The sound enhances it, but it's not really important. She enjoyed watching."

"But why? You lost me, Gris."

"My mother was deaf. Catherine knows, so I assumed you did by now, too."

"Oh. No, I had no idea." She sat silently for a moment, thinking. "Sort of explains something."

"That case?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah. Anyway, she loved the Fourth. I do, too." The pair lapsed into a comfortable silence. Grissom's classic rock station filled the car along with the cool air from the air conditioning vents. Sara wished fleetingly that they could stay in the car forever, their own self contained haven traveling down the Nevada highway.

Sara came back to reality when Grissom parked the car and the radio quickly faded to nothing. "That's an amazing song."

"What?" Grissom asked, turning in his seat to face her.

"Those lyrics. 'Somewhere along the way I found the meaning, woke up dreaming along the way. Never quite seems the same when you awaken...'" She trailed off. "I don't remember now. My dad always listened to that song when I was a little girl."

"I don't know anything about you, do I?" Grissom asked, a slight smile on his lips.

"No, you really don't," she said pleasantly, but with a tinge of regret. She pushed open her car door and got out, walking around to the front of the car. She felt the hood of the car and decided that it was no longer too hot to sit on. She sat down and surveyed their surroundings while she waited for Grissom to join her. There were a few dozen cars in front of them, but they were isolated from the rest of the group.

"They should be starting soon," Grissom said as he took a seat beside her.

"Yeah." Sara stretched out on her back beside where he sat. He watched her but said nothing. She caught his gaze locked on her, and found herself unable to think of anything to say. "Have you ever thought about going back to California?" she finally asked.

  
"Maybe. If I go, you can come with me." He had been attempting a joke, but she was serious when she answered him.

"I probably would. I don't like Vegas. I don't like any city so garish that fireworks are wasted in its sky." She laughed at herself. "I say really stupid things when I don't know what to say."

"No, you're right. It's not a nice place."

"San Francisco was nice, and Massachusetts is beautiful, even if it is cold. I loved the entire state." She sighed. "I never would have come to Las Vegas if it weren't for you."

"Are you sorry you came?" he asked. He had been waiting to ask that question for nearly two years.

"No. I like the lab, I like the challenges, I like being with y--" She stopped immediately when the first firework made its way into the air, whistling as is ascended, then shattering into millions of tiny dots of light that seemed to cascade down over the desert valley below them.

"Wow," they breathed at the same time.

"Fireworks always have this effect on me," he said softly, watching the sky explode into dazzling color every few seconds.

"Hmm, I know," she said from her position beside him. "Who puts these off?"

He gestured vaguely in front of them. "Someone with too much money and time."

"I'm not complaining." She reached forward and cupped his elbow, drawing his attention behind him for the first time since the show started. "Lie down. You'll be able to see them better."

"That's okay."

"Really, Gris, I want to share this with you."

He looked at her nervously, then eased himself down beside her on the car hood. After a few moments she hooked her arm in his and rested her head against his shoulder. "Have you ever thought about what would happen if an accident occurred at a fireworks factory?" he asked, not sure what else to say and for some reason not wanting total quiet between the fireworks.

"Well, I have now. That's a horrible thought."

"Isn't it?" He wrapped his fingers around her own without realizing, enjoying her presence and her body and her voice with the fireworks.

The grand finale. The sounds and the lights of the fireworks were overlapping, a whistle and an explosion, purple over green. A red, blue, and silver firework exploded to their left, gold and pink to their right, a kaleidoscope of sparks over their heads. Grissom felt a few tears escape his eyes, something that had happened every year since his mother died. He wondered why he had not thought of that when he invited Sara to come with him, then decided that it did not matter. If anyone was going to understand, it was Sara.

The final light faded away in the sky, and Sara turned to him. "Thank you," she murmured before noticing his face glistening. "Hey." She disengaged her arm from his own and turned onto her elbow, staring at him. She reached her right hand out to wipe the tears from his cheek, remembering that this was not a completely new gesture. The car hood felt safe. Nothing was going to happen with a hundred people milling around. "It's okay, you know," she offered.

"I know."  
  
"I loved this evening."

"I know." He sighed, wanting to pull her against his chest and hold her. He did want the fireworks to be over. He did not want to get back in the car.

"Maybe next year we'll go to California, pick a random boardwalk and watch the fireworks there," she said, trying not only to help him forget whatever he had been thinking about, but also trying to prolong the moment.

"Yeah." He smiled and rolled onto his side beside her. He kissed her cheek, the most he could allow himself at that point, then slid carefully off the hood and helped her down.

"It was a beautiful night, Grissom," she said as she buckled her seatbelt. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. And it really was a beautiful night, so thank you."

"For what?"

"For helping to make it that way."


End file.
